


Mythos: Syrene's Origin

by JadeTheThief



Category: Dice Funk Podcast D&D Campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeTheThief/pseuds/JadeTheThief
Summary: Backstory for my character in ADD 3, which was loosely set in the post-s1 Dice Funk universe.





	Mythos: Syrene's Origin

Syrene stood over the wooden pyre, watching her mother's body burn.

Flames rose up, consuming the sticks, cracking and splintering them. Black smoke, carrying the acrid scent of seared flesh, wafted into her nostrils. Squinting to hold back the tears, she grit her teeth and watched. 

No one else was left. They had lives to live, families to see. People to love. Distractions. 

Syrene stared at the corpse, skin flaking awake to reveal bone. She wasn't even that old, her mother. As an elf, she should have lived far longer, but she had become frail, ever since... 

She glared, silently cursing. Damn him. He could have fixed this.

Fists tightening, shaking with anger, she screamed at the sky. “YOU COULD HAVE SAVED HER!! YOU FUCKING, WORTHLESS BASTARD!! WHERE ARE YOU!?!”

Slamming her fist into the pyre, she cried out, falling to her knees and clutching her burned hand. “Why...” she sputtered, sobbing through labored breaths. “Dad, why are you never here? She's dead, and you're not here.”

The wind blew lifelessly through the trees, drawing the smoke into the night sky. Under the light of the full moon, the forest felt quieter than ever. The chirps of insects, the calls of birds, all drowned out by the snapping of the pyre. Syrene hugged her fist close to her body, placing it over her tattoo to the sun god. “Pelor...” she shook her head, laughing despondently. “Do you even exist? Do any of you?” Crying, she rubbed her fist in the dirt. “We're all dead. We're fucking dead and we don't even know it yet. Gods don't care. They're not mortal...”

She glanced at the pyre, flames fully consuming the blackening body now. “Mom...” she squinted, wiping her eyes and rising to her feet. “I can't handle this, mom. It's too much...” She took a step forward, feeling the warmth radiating on her skin.

Wait.

Syrene stopped, looking up. “...Pelor?”

No, not Pelor.

She grit her teeth, growing tense. “Dad?” she asked the sky, voice thick with anger.

No.

“Then who?” she scowled. “Make it quick, and make it good, because I'm about two seconds away from joining mom on there.”

Need your help... the voice spoke with a hint of weariness.

“Help?” Syrene laughed harshly. “We all need some fucking help right now. Fuck off.” She took another step forward.

NO.

Syrene jerked to a stop, feeling a wall of force holding her back. 

I will grant your heart's desire... the voice spoke desperately. Tell me what you want.

The wood elf stared at the sky, pondering, then looked to the pyre, its flames growing shorter as sticks collapsed on themselves, turning to ash. “I don't want to die...” she whispered. “Ever. I don't want this to be me.”

A flash of gold burst from the ground in front of her, leaving a glimmering, ornate dagger in its wake. Provide me a living sacrifice, and I will grant your wish.

Syrene paused, staring at the blade. Its hilt glistened, golden, twisting back to form into the shape of a jackal's head. The blade itself was a deep black, obsidian and foreboding. Kneeling, she took hold of it, then turned and walked, beginning her slow trek back to the village.

\---

A hand rapped at the door.

“Just a minute,” Erdan the elf stepped to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. “Oh! Syrene! ...Have you been out there all night?” He looked her over, clothes dirty and disheveled, face red and wet with tears, burned hand caked in mud. “Come in, please! Let's get that hand looked at...”

“Thank you, uncle...” Syrene muttered, voice distant as her fingers curled around the dagger at her back.

Kneeling, he lifted her hand and inspected it, casting a quick healing spell. “That should help somewhat...” He smiled sympathetically. “I'm so sorry about your mother.”

Syrene's lip curled. “So am I.” In one quick motion, she gripped his throat with her healed hand and thrust with the other, driving the blade into his chest. He gasped, breath sucked from his voice and a terrified scream sounded from inside the house as his wife Lia entered the room, accompanied by two small children.

Unh... yes, I feel my strength again. The voice deepened, speaking into Syrene's mind alone. Lock the doors. Feed them to me, and the last one is yours. I will show you how to live forever.

Syrene's gaze narrowed as she pulled the dagger out, stepping over her uncle's body as she slammed the door behind her with her mage hand, breaking its hinges and jamming it into place. Her skin blazed golden as her pupils faded into the whites of her eyes, her clothes fading away to leave the visage of a fierce, glowing goddess.

\---

“Please, Syri...” the child wept, looking at the bodies of his mother and sister.

Syrene shoved a hand over his mouth, pushing him against the wall. “Whoever you are, tell me what to do. Quickly.”

The dagger transfers life essence, the voice explained, now speaking in a smooth, confident, satisfied tone. If the jackal has no other outlet, that essence comes to me, but I have enabled you to receive its gifts as well. Syrene felt his unseen smile in her mind. I am a man of my word.

Nodding, Syrene pushed the dagger into her cousin's heart, aligning the jackal's head to herself. The child's weeping grew faint as his head lolled back, body collapsing. A warmth filled Syrene, healing her wound completely. Her skin tingled, minor damages of age and time knitting themselves back together. She felt younger, healthier, more energetic. Standing, she looked down at herself, feeling as if years had been restored to her.

The dagger grew cold in her hand, the blood on the blade slowly absorbing into the blackness. “Who are you? Why did you find me?” she spoke to the air.

I am Mazat, the voice answered, and I was in need of a servant. I cannot survive alone.

Syrene turned, looking over the carnage, horror slowly dawning. “They were my family...”

You wished to live. The prolonging of your life must come at the expense of others.

Syrene retched, turning away and vomiting.

If it's any consolation, they would have died someday anyway. But you, my dear, will live. Forever.

Syrene coughed, nodding to herself. “Yes, yes... that's what I want.” She smiled, wiping her eyes. “Master.”


End file.
